sixthiterationlogs | (no subject)

WHO: Phryne Fisher
WHERE: House 38
WHEN: Dec. 21st
OPEN TO: Vanille
WARNINGS: None atm

For all that Phryne is at least aware that nor all is entirely well in the state of Demark, to borrow a turn of phrase, the 21st dawns bright and clear. It is, admittedly, significantly colder than Phryne is usually used to it being on her birthday and she's more alone than is customarily the case besides (not that she blames Vanille for needing some space giving the events of yesterday), but other than that it's a perfectly acceptable day. And since there's not anywhere she particularly needs to me, she plans to make the most of it.

For a time, she evens manages something approximating her usual habits - she spends a good long while simply lying around in bed, before finally puttering downstairs to get a fire started. And with that done, she settles in to see if there's any interesting conversations going on over the devices. It's then that she spots the countdown, and the video associated. And before she really stops to think about, she's opening up the video.

She regrets it almost immediately; the video opening on a panicked cry from her and then a blur of chaotic motion, Jack's cry of 'police, out of the way!' cutting through the chaos before there's suddenly a gun at her head and a voice that very nearly brings her to her knees before the video abruptly ends. If she could have dropped the watch then, she would have, her very soul rebelling at the reminder. Not just of René but of Jack. Of the people she's left behind, whose lives she must have simply vanished from, and without even thinking about it she collapses in a heap, voice breaking around a sob.

(It figures, she thinks dimly, that even this place would manage to find something to leave her birthday tinged with sorrow. But for a long moment it's all she can do to remember to actually breathe, and rather than try to resist the emotion she gives herself over to it, entirely unaware of anything else that might be happening around.)

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It's only after Vanille comes back from her wanderings with her friends that she makes her way back into the house. The two dogs greet her at the door, practically dragging her inside to find Phryne not at all looking like her normal. Vanille only pauses for a few moments before she carefully makes her way over.

"Phryne?" she asks quietly, looking more than a little concerned. If Phryne doesn't want her to be there, she won't push, but if this is what she thinks it is, she wants to be there for her housemate as best she can.

There's a brief moment of silence, as Phryne registers that she's not alone anymore, the actual question sinking in almost in pieces. And then it clicks, there's a blink and she shifts, picking herself back up as if nothing's wrong. Or at least, that's what she's aiming for. In practice, she rather misses the mark and for all that it's a good attempt, it's pretty clear that she's not nearly as okay as she's trying to look.

"It's ... memories, that's all."

Things she could have very much done without the reminder of, yes. But still just memories, at the end of the day.

The expression on Phryne's face is more than enough to tell Vanille that all is not at all well. She'd suspected as much and this just confirms it. For a moment, she hesitates, watching to see if Phryne will say anything else before she speaks.

"Maybe... but memories can hurt the most," she says quietly. What she had seen on her wristband had been bad enough, a potential future she hadn't wanted to believe. What Phryne is talking about can be worse in some cases. Sometimes the memory of what happened before, and mistakes that were made, hurts more than any potential future ever could. "If you want to talk about it.. I'm still here."

She'd like to think that she'd seen the end of the particular mistake that had been René Dubois. After all, the man is dead, for all the trouble it had been to have him turn up in her life once again. But both memory and grief are strange things, and the people responsible for them being in the village digging up this particular memory certainly hasn't helped any.

"I could show you," she answers, after another moment. "But honestly, it's not going to mean very much on its own."

Still, she is willing to let Vanille see, if she wants. And if that should happen to prompt any questions... she'll deal with those if and when they should happen to come up.

Vanille's natural curiosity is, admittedly, interested in seeing for herself. At the same time, she knows that this really isn't the right time for something like that, not if Phryne feels forced into divulging more than she's comfortable doing. So Vanille rests both of her hands over one of Phryne's and gives her head a shake.

"Only if you want to show me," she says firmly. "I've had memories of important events be shown to people before I was ready to talk. It's not right for anyone to force you into anything or for them to take away your right to choose. I'll watch... but only if you want to show me."

"It's not that sort of memory. Not on its own, anyway."

In fact, if it weren't for the context she has it wouldn't be even half as uncomfortable as it. Instead, it would be just another part of her admittedly tumultuous life, rather than something that she can't say she likes the idea of their captors being aware of. Even if they apparently have had the grace to not show her the worst of what had transpired after. Still... there's sense in Vanille's comment, and while this bit of memory is harmless enough she can't imagine that she wouldn't have to explain some of the situation. Wouldn't have to at least mention René, if only in passing. And right now, she's not sure she has the mental fortitude for even that much.

"Later, perhaps. I'm not sure I'm ready right now."

Vanille just nods quietly in response. She understands the difficulty of hard memories, no matter what kind they are. So she won't press. It's Phryne's memory to do what she wants with.

But instead of saying anything like that, she just reaches over with both arms to wrap her housemate up in a hug. "It'll be okay. Just... face it later." Famous last words.

Maybe some day Phryne will open up about this particular memory, and the events that followed from it. For now... she simply takes Vanille's nod as the understanding it is. The memory in question might not ever become truly comfortable to look at but that, she figures, is a problem for the future.

Especially when she finds herself suddenly pulled into a hug - there's a blink of a surprise at the suddenness of it, but she doesn't pull away from it either. Instead, she stills, almost. Takes a moment to accept it for what it is, and uses the comfort that's being offered to find the space to finish pulling herself back together properly.

"That should be simple enough to manage."